


Priority Claim

by dishonestdreams, MistressKat, pushkin666



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Claiming, Fae & Fairies, Fae Magic, M/M, Round Robin, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:34:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23989717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dishonestdreams/pseuds/dishonestdreams, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressKat/pseuds/MistressKat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/pushkin666/pseuds/pushkin666
Summary: Dean pulls his arm away and looks through the last few remaining trees. "We're not going to kill anyone." He looks down at the iron knife in his hand as though seeing it for the first time and then he drops it. "We're going to join them." With that he turns from Sam and runs towards the flames.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	Priority Claim

**Author's Note:**

> Another round robin from our Beltane fangirl video night.

"C'mon Sammy," Dean says over his shoulder, with a fever-bright smile, and Sam shivers.

The woods are over-dark and cold for this late in the year, even as far north as they are, and Sam finds himself wishing he'd picked something other to wear than his light spring jacket. He thrusts his hands deeper into his pockets, his shoulders hunching over in a futile attempt to keep the chill at bay, but he already knows it's useless. He strains his eyes against the darkness; he can see sweet fuck-all beyond the elusive flicker of flames through the trees, tantalising glimpses of light that send the shadows dancing unnaturally in ways he's sure are _wrong_ , but there's no chance for him to stop and take stock. They're out of time.

Dean's muttering under his breath, too low for Sam to make out any of his words, but there's a rasp to his voice that speaks to one too many shots of whiskey, and a fire in his eyes to match the flames they're chasing. Every murmur and every glimpse are enough to send trepidation arrowing through Sam's belly, because he's sure those are _wrong_ too.

He doesn't like it one fucking bit.

"Dean," he starts, his tone heavy with _something_ he's not even sure he can articulate, and Dean looks back again, impatiently.

" _C'mon_ , Sammy."

He follows, what else can he do, but as they get closer to the fires and the moving figures he can feel himself shivering more and more. 

"Dean, wait." He catches Dean's arm and pulls him to a stop. This close the flames are reflected in Dean's eyes and Sam shivers again. 

"We can't just rush in" he says. "There are too many of them to try and kill all at once."

"Sammy." Dean pulls his arm away and looks through the last few remaining trees. "We're not going to kill anyone." He looks down at the iron knife in his hand as though seeing it for the first time and then he drops it. "We're going to join them." With that he turns from Sam and runs towards the flames.

Shit. Shit, shit, shitting _shit_. For a split-second Sam stands rooted to the spot, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. 

Then the training takes over and he bolts after his brother. His idiot, dickhead, _enchanted_ brother. When the fuck had the little bastards gotten to him? They'd barely left each other's sight since...

Fuck. He almost stumbles, foot catching on a twisted tree root while his heart goes cold with the realisation. The fight three days ago. Dean had walked out of the motel and when he'd walked back, smelling of rain and the woods, he'd...

How much of the last three days had been Dean? And how much some fucking faerie spell?

Sam's not sure he actually wants to know the answer, but equally sure he's about to find out anyway. The last of the thicket gives away and he bursts onto the clearing just in time to see Dean step into the stone circle at the centre of it. 

"Welcome," a voice like silver bells says. Sam doesn't know which of the shadowy figures had actually spoken, but that could just be because he can't take his eyes off Dean, lit by the fires and smiling a wild, terrible smile full of teeth and love.

"Dean," he hisses, under his breath, but definitely loud enough for his brother to hear him. " _Dean_. Come out of the circle."

It's not like he was expecting it to work, but it still burns a little when Dean doesn't even cut him a glance. He's just standing, easy and relaxed in a way that takes years off him, his eyes shining in the gleam of the reflected firelight, and distant as the stars.

Sam's blood runs cold.

The circle fills with laughter; tinkling like a cascade of silver coins to a casual ear, but Sam's on his guard and he can hear the clatter of broken glass that underpins it. In his peripheral vision he can see them; ephemeral figures that flit in the spaces between the shadow and the light and, on instinct, he shifts to keep them at his front.

He's not turning his back on these tricksy fuckers.

"He can't hear you, huntsman," one of them says, and the words are laced with a cruel amusement that makes Sam's fingers tighten around the hilt of his knife involuntarily.

"Our claim is recognised," another adds, "He's ours now."

Sam steps closer to the circle, keeping his eyes on Dean the whole time. "You may have a claim on him but mine is older and stronger than yours." 

He ignores the laughter and shifting of the faerie. 

"How so, huntsman?" The words are directed at him, the tone silky soft and Sam wills himself to keep still.

"By blood and sex." he answers them. "He is my brother. We have blood between us and have killed together. As for the sex, we have broken the laws of man and god in our love for each other." 

His words ring out across the clearing and the faerie hiss at him, their hands turning sharp and clawed. Sam’s hand tightens on his knife. "He is mine. My claim beats yours."

There’s silence for a moment and then Dean is moving again, stumbling toward him. 

Sam catches him when he falls, though they both go down hard, the forest floor rising up to meet them. 

The faerie laugh and there’s no veneer of beauty to it now, only anger and madness of millennia.

Sam gets back to his feet as fast as he can, hauling his brother up with him. 

“What the…? Where are we?” Dean is squinting at the shadows surrounding them, confused but sensing the danger, already scrabbling for his knife. 

Which is somewhere on the forest floor behind them. Although perhaps that’s for the best. Sam’s bought them some time but it probably won’t take long until someone decides to challenge the his claim. 

“Neck deep in fae shit,” Sam hisses. “But leaving. Hopefully. Let’s just…”

He takes a cautious step away, moving in an awkward sideways shuffle, his back pressed against Dean’s. When no one immediately attacks them, he hazards another one. And another one and another one until there are several trees between them and the shadowy figures.

“We’ll be seeing you again, huntsman,” a thin voice floats after them. “You and your heart’s claim.” 

Sam shudders but they are finally far enough that he dares to turn his back. 

“What did he mean?” Dean asks, voice still thick but with an undercurrent of suspicion that makes Sam’s mouth dry with dread.

“Never mind that,” he hisses, pushing Dean down the path. “Just keep going.” 

To his credit, Dean clamps his mouth shut and picks up the pace. There’s a set to his shoulder though that says the matter is far from dropped.

Sam grits his teeth and pushes down the spiralling sense of trepidation. The fae had respected his claim. 

Maybe Dean will too.


End file.
